


Nimrod

by Lexin



Category: Desert Peach
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexin/pseuds/Lexin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosen discovers something new about his lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nimrod

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katharina Korge](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Katharina+Korge).



"You said that you would never ask for that again. You agreed." Pfirsich Rommel sighed and lay back against the soft pillows. It was good to be with Rosen, but he could be so annoying.

Rosen grinned at him, "So? You don't get what you don't ask for."

"There are some things it isn't safe to ask for, Rosen. That's one of them." Pfirsich frowned at him, disapproving.

Rosen didn't seem at all concerned. "Sounds promising."

"Well, it isn't," Pfirsich leaned over and kissed Rosen softly. "Sex with you was wonderful as always, but now I really do have to get back to my unit. God knows what those boys will have been up to in my absence."

"You worry too much." This was a familiar refrain from Rosen.

"And you, my love, don't worry enough."

Pfirsich sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his shirt, the sand-coloured Afrika Korps issue, disentangling it from his peach-coloured breeches. He felt Rosen's hands on his shoulders and a kiss on the back of the neck. It was a tender gesture, unexpectedly so, Rosen was not usually so gentle or so loving. As Pfirsich looked back at him, Rosen caught his face in his hands.

"You are so beautiful," Rosen said, softly.

"Danke," Pfirsich replied, smiling. He thought for a moment, fighting temptation, resisting the need. He swallowed feeling the old want well up inside him; that room in his soul had long been locked but inside was as he had left it. A little dusty, maybe, but it was still there, part of him. Pfirsich said, "This...are you prepared to do it entirely on my terms?" He was seeking to protect them both.

"Ja..." Rosen looked rather puzzled.

"You must be sure, dear."

"Very well."

But Pfirsich still was not satisfied, Rosen might want it enough to drop his customary brashness but Pfirsich needed more. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll do what you want. You may not entirely enjoy it, though. I'll be in touch to tell you what I want you to do."

"Then you're not going to just..."

Uncharacteristically Pfirsich didn't let him finish. "It won't be 'just' anything." His voice was velvet as always, but velvet over steel. "As I said, we're going to do this my way. Nicht?"

Rosen swallowed, he tried to look away, then he said: "All right. I trust you." It was as near to an open declaration of love as Rosen had ever made.

Making satisfactory arrangements was not at all easy, the war made so much impossible or at the very least difficult, but at last Pfirsich was reasonably sure everything had been taken care of, he had enough time, Rosen had more than enough and everything else was ready.

He couldn't use their usual place, they were both far too well known there, so they had to travel further afield. His worst fear - or hope - was that either Erwin or the British would launch an attack in the meantime, but he was lucky. Or unlucky depending on how he looked at it.

Pfirsich noticed that his orderly Udo Schmidt was eyeing him oddly, and as Rauschling joined them he did not miss the quick glance and half shrug that passed between the two.

"Anything else, Herr Oberst?" Schmidt asked, dusting a fleck of mothball from the grey standard issue continental uniform.

"Nein, Danke." Pfirsich fastened the collar and then smoothed down the pocket flaps. He ignored the unspoken question of why the hell anyone would want to wear the wool uniform in the desert of all places. He returned their salutes and went out into the heat of the sun to take a vehicle from the pool. He was as aware of the curious stares of the men as he was of the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. And wouldn't Erwin be surprised to discover, if he ever did, that this battalion was well trained enough not to ask why their commanding officer was wearing his heavy uniform and disappearing off on leave?

Pfirsich arrived first and he checked everything was in order, making certain preparations of his own. The place was very much what he had wanted, bedroom and bathroom adjoining, thick walls to keep out the desert heat and retain sound. Part of his mind was on the small details of his preparations, making certain everything was ready, that it would all work smoothly the other part wanted to refuse. Now he had time to think, to consider this need, crush it, eradicate it, as he had tried to do before. And with self-control - he was capable of the if nothing else - he had been successful. Until now.

But now it called to him, the call of the whip singing as it stings the flesh, the flesh of the man he loves bearing his mark, the man he loves confined by him. Rosen, a man he wanted as he had never wanted anyone else, was offering him this. He thought of Rosen, protected, under his command, safe.

Pfirsich dismissed the image as absurd; Rosen could well look after himself. He knew he should refuse to do this. But he couldn't stop now. For a moment he despised himself, a little tenderness from Rosen and his will gave way. He smiled into the mirror, his look ironical; if Rosen ever realised how very easy Pfirsich was to manipulate he could be in serious trouble. Luckily, and so far, Rosen did not seem to have drawn the right conclusions, he was still acting on instinct.

When it became necessary Pfirsich could play the arrogant Wehrmacht officer as well as anyone and better than most, and the proprietor of this establishment had been impressed which was what he had intended. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to ask awkward questions but the man had been well paid, enough that Pfirsich had no real worries on that score. He could commit a murder here and it would pass unquestioned.

Pfirsich didn't need to even glance at his watch. He had made it very clear that lateness would not be tolerated, but he knew his Rosen, knew him only too well. Everything was in order and Pfirsich allowed himself a deep sigh as he prepared himself mentally. Twenty five minutes after the appointed time, and precisely when Pfirsich was expecting it there was a hurried knock at the door and a grinning Rosen stepped in.

"You're late," said Pfirsich, calmly.

Rosen shrugged and spread his hands the way he always did. "I'm sorry..."

He was interrupted, "I told you we were going to play this game by my rules. From now on you will address me as 'mein Herr'."

Rosen looked surprised but he agreed, "Uh...ja, mein Herr."

"Now dear, this is a game for adults, but it is a game. I have no wish to hurt you seriously and you can stop me any time you want. The code is 'sunflower', understand?"

"Jawohl, mein Herr!" But it was clear he wasn't yet serious, he clicked his heels then went back to his usual slouch.

"Have you played games like this before?"

"Ja. Well, a little," Rosen gave him a cheeky grin. "And that once with you. Mein Herr," he added with a wink and a purr.

The smile was wiped off his face when Pfirsich commented, "Good. I really hate beginners." He paused as the air circled slowly under the ceiling fan. Sharp as a blow he shouted: "Attention!"

Trained soldier that he was Rosen snapped to attention immediately. The Luftkriegsschule clearly trained its officers at least adequately. Just as well. Pfirsich walked slowly round Rosen, taking his time over the inspection.

"You're improperly dressed," Pfirsich said, "and you were late. I really don't know how you survive in that unit of yours, you ought to be on a charge most of the time. Though one can't call what you do real soldiering. I'm an Oberst, out here I can do pretty much what I please, but you're an Oberleutnant...I think it's time das Heer got some use out of you."

Rosen was still standing rigid and staring straight ahead but Pfirsich could tell by the tightening of his jaw that the words annoyed him. All to the better, he preferred an edge of danger to these encounters, the possibility, however remote, that the tables could be turned on him.

"Stand at ease!" he yelled and was pleased by Rosen's instant response. Military training could usually be relied upon, but given Rosen's normal attitude towards the military Pfirsich had sometimes wondered if he had ever done basic training. He nodded approval though well out of Rosen's line of sight; it seemed that once these things were drilled in, they stayed drilled.

"Take your clothes off," Pfirsich ordered. Adding, "Do it!" when he wasn't instantly obeyed. Silly boy, thought Pfirsich, he should have been expecting that. He stood, relaxed, legs slightly apart, watching Rosen strip. First the jacket came off and then his boots and braces. "Stop," said Pfirsich, and moved round to face him. Rosen watched, wary, slightly off balance. He might have done this sort of thing before, but it was clear to Pfirsich that he really hadn't been involved in anything quite like this and Pfirsich acknowledged that an extra edge of interest, of danger, was added by the fact that it was almost reality. He, much as he might choose to avoid it, really was an Oberst of the Wehrmacht and Rosen a comparatively lowly Oberleutnant, their military training all too real.

Rosen had loosened his tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, it hung slightly open showing the beginnings of dark hair on his broad chest. Pfirsich reached out and touched him and Rosen blinked as if the caress was unexpected.

"Go on," Pfirsich said. He looked with unsmiling appreciation on the very attractive body that was revealed as Rosen finished undressing. Rosen was well muscled though not disproportionately so; he reminded Pfirsich of a fine young stallion, full of life and strength. "Now go and bathe."

"I washed already. Mein Herr," he added as he saw Pfirsich's stare.

"I didn't ask." Pfirsich said, softly, as only a man sure of his power and control would dare. "Go and clean yourself. And inside. You'll be the one who suffers for it if you don't."

With a puzzled look Rosen walked to the bathroom, cock swaying but beginning to harden. Watching him Pfirsich remembered that Rosen's experience of being fucked was limited. I wonder, thought Pfirsich whimsically, as he turned to stare out of the window onto the sea, how soon it will be before he makes the mistake of arguing with me. He could feel the need growing inside, the need he so rarely gave vent to, knowing how much damage he could cause to the unwary. He had given in to it only once before with Rosen, and regretted it. He had no doubt that he would regret this still more.

Rosen came out of the bathroom as naked as he had gone in, his hair was only towelled dry and he was still slightly damp. He looked beautiful, Pfirsich swallowed thickly, clamping down on his sudden lust.

"Fetch me some water," he ordered.

"At your command, mein Herr."

Pfirsich sipped, still watching Rosen as he did so. Then he reached into the pocket of his tunic and brought out a silver ring. "Ever seen one of these?" he asked.

"It's a cock-ring."

Pfirsich reflected that he knew something at least. "Have you ever worn one?"

"Nein, mein Herr."

Pfirsich handed it to him, and the silver glittered in the sunlight. Rosen wasn't usually awkward and Pfirsich knew that he had not been lying when he said he had never worn a cockring before. Pfirsich took a deep breath, seeing a man take this first step, make this most minimal of encasement at his own volition, did something to him. It always had.

"Put it over your cock," Pfirsich watched almost entranced. Rosen had strong hands, they were tanned by the desert sun, and somehow very masculine. Very much Rosen. "Now pull your balls through." Rosen's pubic hair was black, it made his cock look pale in comparison but it showed the silver band of the cockring off to good effect.

Their eyes met and Pfirsich knew that for better or for worse they were now locked into this, the game would play out to its end and God help them both.

Rosen lowered his eyes. He has good instincts for this anyway, thought Pfirsich, or he needs it so badly he can pretend to have. "Give me your wrists," he said. Round each of them he fastened a wide leather band set with metal rings.

"Where the hell did you get these?" Rosen asked, astonished.

Pfirsich slapped him fairly hard across the face. "Mein Herr," he reminded. "And don't talk back to me. I don't like metal restraints, they're ugly and they mark the skin. These were from an Arab dealer."

Swiftly he fastened Rosen's wrists together behind his back using a clip, something quick for him to undo but quite impossible for Rosen to reach. Pfirsich spun Rosen round to look at him, took his face in his hands then kissed him gently.

"Now," said Pfirsich, "kneel down." He pressed, gently but inexorably on Rosen's shoulders. "Suck me, Rosen," he ordered, keeping his voice soft.

Rosen looked up at him in astonishment, "How, mein Herr?" he asked.

Pfirsich guessed he was referring to his breeches. "You'll have to use your teeth to undo them, won't you?" he said and he smiled, not entirely nicely.

The field grey breeches fastened with buttons, opening them without the use of his hands was an almost impossible task for Rosen but Pfirsich did not help at first, merely unfastened and removed his jacket, dropping it negligently on the floor. When he judged Rosen had done enough he finished the job for him, letting his half hard cock come free noting, with an amusement he was careful not to show, Rosen's surprise at his lack of underwear.

Pfirsich felt Rosen's mouth close round his cock, felt it come fully erect under his unusually careful ministrations. He breathed out slowly and reached down to cup the back of Rosen's head in one hand, letting him feel the strength of it, the force he could exert should he choose to. He smiled as Rosen tried harder to please him, and moved back slowly, partly to tease Rosen, and partly so he could lean against a wall. To orgasm standing was never an ideal choice.

He looked down to where Rosen's mouth was closed around him. Rosen's brown eyes were hidden, Pfirsich could see his long dark lashes against his cheek, and occasionally his long fringe flopped over his forehead. He looked quite lovely. Pfirsich felt tension grow inside him, and at last he held Rosen in place, using his mouth as a vessel into which to orgasm forcing semen down his ready throat. The experience was electric, more so than Pfirsich had been expecting, and he held still for some moments afterwards calming slowly.

Finally he withdrew, and buttoning himself back up neatly he fetched water, took a sip, and then allowed Rosen to drink the rest; some spilled out of his mouth and onto his chest. When the water was gone he pulled Rosen up to kiss him on the mouth, tasting himself still on Rosen's tongue.

"Oh! Oh Gott, Pfirsich..."

Pfirsich pulled back and slapped him hard across the face. "Mein Herr," he reminded harshly.

"Mein Herr," repeated Rosen, but he didn't sound particularly humble. "Is that why you like that?"

"I like it because I like it," replied Pfirsich. He kissed Rosen again, rough and thorough, holding him so that the heat of the naked body struck through his shirt. He knew how it must feel for Rosen, the edges of the buttons pressed against his skin. I should have left my jacket on, thought Pfirsich, the medals can dig in abominably.

Against his thigh Pfirsich could feel that Rosen was hard and when his arms were round Rosen's waist he encountered his hands, still shackled together. He explored Rosen's mouth for a long time, tasting his youth and freshness like water from a new well.

It was pleasant, more than pleasant, but in the end Pfirsich reached behind Rosen and unclipped his wrists. Rosen rubbed his arms to restore circulation. He looked puzzled, "What now?" he asked.

"Mein Herr!" Pfirsich reminded him, with another sharp slap. Quickly he clipped Rosen's hands together in front of him, and led him to the bed. "Now you get the punishment you deserve."

A gleam of anticipation came into Rosen's eye, "Punishment?"

"Yes, and part of it is for insubordination."

"Mein Herr," said Rosen, hurriedly.

"Too late. But I promise you that you won't forget again, not after I've finished with you." He clipped Rosen to the bed, hands above his head and fastened to the headboard with an ingenious device of chains.

"I'm on my back," Rosen pointed out, cheekily.

"I know." Pfirsich stood up and crossed to his bag, from it he produced a pair of bulldog clips, the kind used for holding papers, but these had been slightly modified.

"Au!" yelled Rosen as Pfirsich fastened one to each nipple. "That hurts!"

"Yes, dear." Pfirsich patted his thigh, "Maybe now you will think before you bite me. It doesn't seem to have affected this, though, does it?" He ran his hand up Rosen's leg to cup his erect cock then played with it, drawing the foreskin back over the glistening head and exposing it to the light. He heard Rosen inhale sharply as he took it into his mouth, running his tongue under the foreskin.

The cockring caught his eye and he ran the tip of his finger round the tight band, then luxuriously sucked the whole cock in hearing Rosen's murmur of: "Himmel! Oh Gott... Don't stop... Please don't stop..." He pulled away and Rosen gave a long moan of pain. "You bastard," Rosen said, when he could speak at all.

Pfirsich looked down at him and smiled, gently. "Very probably," he said. He turned on his heel and went to fetch some more water. Pfirsich took a drink then offered Rosen some, which he accepted. Pfirsich sat beside him on the bed playing with his exposed body as if it was some expensive new toy.

"You're tickling me," said Rosen, adding, "mein Herr," as an afterthought.

Pfirsich slapped him across the thigh with the flat of his hand, the sound loud and sharp. "I can do as I please." He slid the hand between Rosen's thighs to rub his arse with one finger. "You'd never been fucked before me, had you?"

"Nein, mein Herr."

"Had you wanted to be?" Pfirsich was just indulging his curiosity.

"I'd wondered, seeing what it did to you," admitted Rosen after a pause. "I had thought of asking you."

"Oh?"

"You know how it is when you're desperate to go to the latrine, and how good it feels when you go? That's when I thought of asking you."

Pfirsich laughed, he couldn't help it. "You are disgusting sometimes."

"Oh," said Rosen, and shifted a little, Pfirsich had inserted the finger into his arse. Rosen gasped, "Disgusting, am I? You're the one who used the word 'fuck'."

"Don't remind me." Pfirsich withdrew his finger quickly and Rosen yelped. Swiftly Pfirsich removed the dog clips and Rosen screamed, "Oh Gott! They're worse coming off than they were going on!"

"I realise that," purred Pfirsich. He went over to his bag and produced a riding crop. The gleam was back in Rosen's eye. Pfirsich took hold of one shoulder and roughly turned Rosen over onto his face. Looking down at the exposed back he allowed himself a moment to appreciate it. Pfirsich knew most men did not look at other men in the way that he did, yet how could anyone not find this attractive? How could anyone not want this?

He swished the crop a couple of times to get the feel of it then struck Rosen as hard as he dared across the buttocks. Rosen jerked at the blow but made no sound. Well, no-one had ever doubted his courage. Pfirsich struck again, this time across the back and he stood away for a moment to admire the welts this raised. How Rosen would keep them a secret was his problem - or maybe he would display them for the edification of the men in his unit: 'Look boys, I have a male lover who beats hell out of me...' Perhaps not. Pfirsich could believe a good many things of Rosen, but not that. And what if it ever got back to Erwin? 'Did you know your brother likes whipping?' 'I should have guessed.' 'Oh, no, Herr Generalfeldmarschall, not taking it. Dishing it out.'

By now Rosen's back and buttocks were patterned with blows, attractively in Pfirsich's opinion. Rosen was letting out a grunt each time a blow struck and at each expression of pain Pfirsich felt his cock harden, the lust taking hold. He stopped for a moment to get his breath back and he stroked the back of Rosen's neck idly, then ran the tips of his fingers down the now heated back to rest on his warmed buttocks, rubbing them gently. He could see that Rosen was breathing deeply and fast, but he did not seem unduly distressed.

The crop having served its purpose Pfirsich fetched a length of leather. He did not know its original purpose, it was too short and wide to have been intended as a belt but as soon as he had noticed it he had seen the possibilities it presented. He used it exclusively on Rosen's arse, over the welts already raised by the crop, reddening it expertly. Each slap sounded loud in the room and made his cock still harder.

When Rosen yelled each time a blow landed Pfirsich considered he had done enough. With one hand he unbuttoned his fly, with the other he soothed Rosen's arse, then using the gun grease he had brought for the purpose he opened Rosen with his fingers, feeling the softness of him inside.

Entering him, Rosen's arse opening to take him in, Pfirsich felt the heat of Rosen's backside against his stomach and thighs, a curiously exciting feeling. He'd only taken the aggressive rôle with Rosen once before and that had been rather hurried; this time he allowed himself to make it long, slow and leisurely, getting to know all Rosen's responses to his different thrusts, how he relaxed when Pfirsich made it deep and hard and tensed to speed.

He heard Rosen murmur, "Oh, you bastard, you swine, please let me come, please..." There was a ragged intake of breath, the barest hint of a sob as the need shuddered through Rosen. "Mein Herr," Rosen whispered, "oh, mein Herr, geben Sie es mir, Pfirsich mein Herr, bitte, bitte, Pfirsich, oh mein Herr," the words dissolved into a long murmuring of his name and his honour.

A broken cry escaped Rosen, and Pfirsich took pity on him. He pulled Rosen's hips up a little to reach beneath him and take hold of his solid cock with its silver band. He encased it, rubbed it with the rhythm of his thrusts above. He could hear Rosen gasping for breath, then suddenly felt his cock gripped tight by Rosen's arse and the jerking of Rosen's cock in his hand. He did what Rosen often did to him, waited until it was over then moved slowly, pacing himself, making Rosen feel every inch of him, every movement deep inside the tremble of his body, until Rosen was whispering his name over and over, and only then did Pfirsich give himself over to passion, thrusting hard as he made Rosen experience Pfirsich's orgasm as it filled him.

He withdrew slowly then reached up to unclip Rosen's wrists and free them. "Now you can clean me. With your mouth."

Rosen gave him a shocked stare, then nodded, "As you wish, mein Herr." And he did, carefully, with a tenderness and affection usually hidden away behind the brashness of his machismo. Pfirsich gazed down at him, at the intensity and the care being lavished upon him, and his right hand rose and stroked the exposed nape of Rosen's neck.

Before they parted Rosen leaned over the Kübel and asked, "Where did you learn all that? You really love it, don't you?"

Pfirsich smiled, looked at him thoughtfully for a moment then said: "My dear young man, you're not the only one of us with a past." He accelerated back towards the escarpment and his own unit leaving Rosen staring after him.

Vielleicht ein end?


End file.
